Tomahawk (26 page)

Uncle Xinhu rose for remarks, and everyone clapped and murmured admiringly when he sat down. The little old man smiled so steadily Dan wondered if he was functional. Then came the toasts. The room grew warm, then hot. He caught Kerry's eye as he upended his cup.

“Your wife is very beautiful.”

He twisted his head; Xinhu was bending over his shoulder. He started to say Kerry wasn't his wife, then thought, surprised, Hell, I dated his niece. Does he think … He said, “Thanks.”

“Would you come with me? Mei has a story she wants to tell your wife.”

“Story? What kind of story?”

“An old Chinese tale about a tiny carp who thought he could leap over a great dam. Come on, we will be back in a few minutes.”

It didn't compute, but he gave way to the demands of hospitality and followed Xinhu down a narrow stained passage with sunflowered wallpaper peeling off the plaster. They went up a shadowy flight of lacquered steps, so old that they were worn away in the center, to a dim upper place where men sat in booths. Golden carvings gleamed faintly from glass-fronted cabinets. His host spoke to a bowing waiter as they slid into an alcove.

“Do you have any children, Dan?”

He said he had a daughter. Xinhu said, “How wonderful. The revolution changed a great deal about our own ancient culture. But one thing that remains more precious than any other is the family.”

Dan agreed families were important. The waiter brought out fresh martinis. Xinhu lifted his. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” Kerry couldn't see him now, so he drank it swiftly. When he went back downstairs, they'd make their excuses and leave. In an hour, he'd be in bed with her. … Xinhu said, “Mei tells me she enjoyed very much going out with you.”

“Yeah, it was fun. No more, sir, thanks. Actually, we need to leave pretty soon. Thanks for dinner.”

“In a moment. Mei tells me you are very intellectual in the Szerenci class. She tells me you are in the Navy?”

“That's right.”

“I was in Shanghai when the first U.S. Navy ship arrived to visit it since 1949, when the bandit Nationalists fled. Everyone was very happy to have the U.S. Navy return. Have you ever been to China?”

“Uh, no. I'd like to see it sometime, though. The Great Wall and all.”

“Why not? There are American military missions there now. Building a common front against our mutual enemy. Many U.S. government agencies and commercial companies are helping China strengthen herself. Have you heard of that?”

“Sure. Engines for your new destroyers. Lightweight torpedoes. Things like that.”

“And where do you work, Dan?”

“In Crystal City.”

“Oh, yes. Mei mentioned to me, that you gave a report on your office. This is very interesting, this idea of the cruise missile. I wonder if you would be willing to assist us in understanding it.”

Dan was trying to penetrate the gloom to see what the carvings were when he caught what Xinhu had said.
“Assist
you? What do you mean?”

“We would not want anything that was classified, of course. I am not asking about anything like that! But things that are permitted to you to give out. Articles, the public-relations photographs, what companies are building the various parts. A telephone book would be very helpful.”

“I don't understand. If you want a phone book—”

“I'm sorry, I do not mean the Washington book. Of course I have that, and as an attach I also have the Defense Department telephone book. But there is also one for the office where you work. Isn't there?”

A blade-edge of wariness tested his alcoholic bubble. He looked toward the bar, avoiding the stocky man's eyes as he tried to focus in the martini dim. He wasn't up to doing partial integrals, but it didn't take much extension of the trend lines of the last few remarks to see what Xinhu was aiming at.

Mei's uncle? He doubted that now. Whoever he was, he obviously thought Dan and Mei had gotten it on. That was what he meant by the references to “family,” the fulsome compliments for Kerry and questions about children. Had Mei told him they'd done the deed? Xinhu seemed to think so; he thought Dan and Kerry were married; thought, therefore, he had something on him. He fingered his glass, wishing he hadn't drunk quite so much. “Uh, why would you need something like that?”

“I would like to know more about the people in your office. Could you tell me about some of them? Is there anyone who owes money? Or who disagrees with policy?”

“Uh, I don't really know. Nobody comes to mind.”

“Are there any Chinese? Americans of course, but of Chinese extraction?”

A face came to mind: a sergeant in the Advanced Systems Group he'd dealt with when he was running the Combined Federal Campaign. But instead of mentioning him, he said, “I don't recall any. Why?”

Xinhu sketched some uninterpretable figure or sign with his finger. Dan wondered if it was an ideogram, and if it was, what it meant.

He said, purely out of the blue and being drunk, “This phone book thing. It sounds like what you're talking about is the
Employee Handbook.
It's got the director's bio, and the wiring diagram for the organization, and in the back there's a list of office numbers.”

“How many pages are they?”

“How many? Oh, they're not very big.”

“Could you photocopy one for me?”

“I don't know.”

“It could help your family.”

Dan felt a sudden chill, and it wasn't the icy gin. “Help my family?” he repeated.

“That's right. You could send your parents extra money, for example. I would be happy to pay you for the copies, and for your time.”

Dan wondered what kind of picture the man had of American life. He said, “I'd have to think about that.”

“I would also like you to meet a friend of mine. He is named Li. Not here, but somewhere else. To discuss other aspects of cooperation. Can I call you?”

“Whatever. Hey, thanks for the drinks, but… can we get back to the others?”

“Certainly,” said Xinhu. He searched his pockets and held out something. A card? It was so dark in the room, Dan just put it into his pocket, and as he did so, his fingers brushed the little flat box. She wasn't his wife yet, but it might happen.

“You are smiling. Did I make a funny remark?”

“No, I'm just happy.” He stood, almost fell, then steadied himself on the table. As he followed Xinhu down the staircase, he felt it rolling around him, as if they were at sea in a storm. It actually made him homesick. If you
missed your home, it was homesickness. If you missed the sea, it wasn't seasickness, though. Funny language, English.

Kerry greeted him with a strained smiie He kissed Mei, shook the geezer's hand, saying their good-byes. A child was bawling; another slumped asleep.

When he hit the cold air outside, he all at once felt really, really drunk. He said, “Hey, would you mind driving?”

“I was about to ask you for the keys.”

When they got back to the apartment, she disappeared into the bathroom. He stood in the bedroom, waiting. It seemed like a long time.

Finally, he went into the kitchen and opened the upper cabinet. There it was, his fallback bottle. He tipped it up, then capped it and slid it back and closed the cupboard gently so that it wouldn't bang. She came in a moment later, as he was drinking orange juice out of the carton. He stayed bent into the fridge. “Nice party, huh?”

“They were nice…. Where did you go? There in the middle?”

“Her uncle wanted to talk.”

“What about?”

“I'm still not sure.” He wanted to think about it when he wasn't shit-faced, but it had seemed an awful lot like an intelligence approach. If it was, he ought to report it. But if he did, that could get Mei in trouble.

“That Chinese girl—”

“Mei?”

“I saw the way she looked at you. Is she an old girlfriend?”

“I took her out a couple of times. But it didn't go anywhere. Just a classmate is the most accurate claff—
classification.
Are you ready for bed?”

“In a minute. I still have to change.” She left the kitchen again. After a moment, he glanced out, made sure the coast was clear, and pulled the bottle out for another long swallow.

Bottle lifted, he stared up at the ceiling as the liquor scorched his throat.

The next morning, he woke not only with a paralyzing headache but also with the sense something was dreadfully wrong. When he got his eyes open, he was alone in bed. He was naked. He forced himself up and staggered to the closet. His hands shook as he fumbled with the ties of his bathrobe.

She sat by the sliding windows in the living room, sipping tea and reading the “Lifestyle” section. He eased himself down across from her, trying not to hurl. “Hi.”

“Hi. Do you remember what happened last night?”

“Last night. The dinner?”

“After that.”

He waited for her to tell him. She flipped a page and said, not looking at him, “You drank a lot, apparently. I didn't see you do it, but you were so drunk, you couldn't make love. You tried, but eventually you went to sleep. I woke up later, and I heard water running. At first, I couldn't figure it out. Then I saw you standing in the corner.”

He closed his eyes. Red motes illuminated a pain-filled darkness. “I don't remember that.”

“Go look.”

“I didn't mean that I'll go clean it up.”

There didn't seem to be much else to say, and she just kept reading, so he staggered into the bedroom and found the patch of soggy carpet. Could he really have … Yeah, he had. Whizzed in the closet. Actually, on his running shoes.

The scary thing was that he didn't remember it.

It took awhile to clean up; he had to sit on the bed and say calming things to his stomach between fetching paper towels. When he was done, he took three aspirin, then went into the shower and scrubbed from head to toe under scalding water.

When he came out, he felt like a too-light photocopy of himself. He pulled on sweatpants and a T-shirt and went back out.

She was sitting in the same place, staring out the window, with her chin on her hand. He said, “I'm never going to drink again. Liquor, wine—I'm on the wagon for good.
You'll never see me in that condition again.”

“Dan, I hate to say this, but we already had this conversation. Remember? After you got so stinking drunk in Annapolis that I had to wash the vomit off your face.”

“I didn't promise not to drink then. I said I'd cut out hard liquor.”

“A promise that you then went ahead and broke. Both at the restaurant last night and after we got home. From the bottle in the kitchen. Right?”

He didn't say anything. She waited, then added, “Do you understand what I'm saying? Do you really?”

“This time's different. I give you my word.”

She just kept looking out into the daylight, as if she could hear him but wasn't listening. He waited, hands in his lap, dumb as a dog under a blow. Finally, she said, “I believe you mean that. What I don't know is whether you can keep that promise. I've seen so many people at the house, and on the street, who can't stop. Drugs, or alcohol. They
want
to—but they can't.”

“I don't think it's the same. Comparing me with them.”

“Just because you aren't homeless at the moment? Dan, they had jobs once. They had families. I don't think you understand how much danger you're in.”

He couldn't believe she was comparing him with street drunks, with addicts, with the winos who lay in the doorways of abandoned buildings and stood stunned or mumbling by every subway entrance. He hadn't meant to start drinking at the dinner.

Then he saw what she meant. He'd resolved never to get drunk in front of her again. But after that first drink, he'd wanted more and more. Stopping had never occurred to him. Only hiding it. All he could say was, “Well, this time, I'm serious.”

She didn't answer, and after studying her, he went back into the bedroom and found his blazer lying on the floor. He had a bad moment when he couldn't locate it, but then the corner touched his palm. He came out, holding it behind his back. “Here. This is for you.”

She looked at the blue velvet box.

“Go ahead, take it.”

She opened it. Finally, she said, “Is that a diamond?”

“Uh-huh. Not a big one, but it's good quality. That's a marquise cut.”

Stop babbling, he told himself. He couldn't breathe, waiting for some response. But he couldn't tell if she was thrilled, or taken aback, or if she felt anything at all. “Try it on. I had to guess at the size.”

She put it on her ring finger, but only for a moment. Her lips compressed. Then she took it off and slid it onto her index finger.

“Too big? I can have them fix that. Look, say something. Do you like it?”

“I don't know, Dan. It's lovely, but… Yesterday, I would have been excited. But this morning, I don't know. Are you sure you want to offer me this? This is an engagement ring, right?”